


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Keira_63



Series: The Queen & Her Lord M [24]
Category: ITV Victoria, ITV Victoria (2016), Victoria (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas, Eggnog, F/M, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Love, Mistletoe, Modern AU, Modern Era, Older Man/Younger Woman, Requited Love, Vicbourne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keira_63/pseuds/Keira_63
Summary: Victoria is a little tipsy from the eggnog, quite pleased at finally getting William over to her new house, and very, very drunk on love. She is also determined to get William to stay the night.Modern AU.





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the historical characters in Victoria nor do I own the TV series which was written by Daisy Goodwin. Any lines from the show are also not mine and are just borrowed from Daisy Goodwin and ITV Victoria.
> 
> Song lyrics come from Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Tom Jones & Cerys Matthews.

Victoria has a hot chocolate with a liberal splash of Baileys and rather a lot of eggnog before William even arrives.

Not the best idea she’s ever had, but she really is just so nervous, which is ridiculous because this is _William_ (kind and charming and clever and never cruel).

It’s the first time he’s been over to see her new home, though, the first time they will be truly alone (not surrounded by people in a public space or knowing one of their friends or family members are just in the next room or watched like a hawk by her disapproving mama and uncles).

She needs this to go well.

 

William is … he’s so important to her. She’s never had a friend like him.

Even dearest Lehzen cannot comfort and advise her the way William does, cannot make her laugh as much or smile as widely. William makes her feel like she can do anything.

She loves him.

For how long she has done so she does not know. Sometimes she thinks she fell in love the first moment she saw him. Or perhaps it was when he listened to her like her words were worth something, or when he defended her fiercely to any colleague or business rival who suggested that she brought nothing to the company they both worked for and was only there because her uncles are Directors.

Three years they have worked side by side. He is her confidant, her mentor, her best friend.

She wants more, though.

 

She thinks William loves her too.

The way he looks at her sometimes, the way his hand lingers on hers, the way he smiles so beautifully at her.

Oh she hopes he loves her.

The problem, however, is not necessarily what William feels, but whether he will let himself show those feelings.

After all, if one were to search for the definition of ‘noble’ in the dictionary, Victoria is sure that William’s photograph would be right next to it.

 

Victoria hears the doorbell ring before she can work herself up too much about William’s admirable but frustrating nobility.

She looks in the mirror, sighing at how short she is and how chubby her face seems but glad that her friend Nancy has helped her choose a flattering hairstyle and dress.

“I can do this,” she whispers to herself as she goes to let William in, “it will all work out.”

She hopes.

 

* * *

_I really can’t stay_

_But baby, it’s cold outside_

_I’ve got to go away_

_Ah, baby, it’s cold outside_

_This evening has been_

_Been hoping that you’d drop in_

_So very nice_

_I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice_

* * *

It’s all been going very well if she does say so herself.

Admittedly she has probably had rather too much eggnog at this point, but it helps her remain calm and relaxed, which is important.

William has admired her house, she’s managed to bring a blush to his cheeks when showing him her bedroom while giving him a tour, and the conversation has never become stilted.

 

But now he wants to go.

“You can’t leave, William!” she protests, a little too loudly, “it’s only ten thirty.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Victoria,” he reminds her, “and I’ve got to finish my wrapping before I go over to my sister’s house tomorrow.”

“But … but … it’s so cold outside,” she says triumphantly, “you’ll freeze out there.”

He laughs, a deep, rich and melodious sound that temporarily distracts her from her determination to make him stay a while longer.

“I’ve got a coat and scarf, and I’m sure I can call a taxi.”

“I doubt it,” Victoria pouts, “there’s never a taxi to be had at this time on Christmas Eve.”

William raises an eyebrow as if he doubts the veracity of her statement. She looks away, unwilling to be caught in her little lie – taxis _are_ hard to get at this time of year, but certainly not impossible.

 

To distract William, Victoria steps forward and seizes his hands, “like ice,” she pronounces gravely, even though they are in fact warm and fit with her own hands in a perfect way, “I cannot in good conscience allow you to go outside when you’re so cold, William. I guess you’ll have to stay a while more and warm up.”

He gives her an indulgent look but does not tug his hands away and she thinks that is a good sign.

“I’ll get some more eggnog and turn up the fire,” she says, “and you can tell me more stories about my uncles.”

“Please,” she says when he still looks torn, “it will be so nice to have company for a little longer.”

His direct gaze finds hers and she senses that he realises that beneath her playful pleading for him to stay is a loneliness that he helps push away.

“Alright then,” he gives her a tired but genuine smile, “I suppose it can’t hurt to stay a bit longer.”

 

* * *

 

_Maybe just a half a drink more_

_Why don’t you put some records on while I pour_

_I wish I knew how_

_Your eyes are like starlight now_

_To break this spell_

* * *

 

William knows he really should have gone home already.

It isn’t about the wrapping, admittedly.

He _is_ supposed to be visiting his sister Emily’s home tomorrow for a big family gathering but the presents are all prepared and ready to go. He’s also gotten very used to functioning on a small amount of sleep so he can’t use that as an excuse either.

The truth is that he doesn’t trust himself alone around Victoria for too long. He’s afraid that enough eggnog, the warmth of the fire and her intoxicating presence will lead him to do something stupid.

Like kissing her. Or admitting he loves her.

Both of which would be very, very bad things.

Well, he imagines they would feel wonderful for him, but he doesn’t want to be selfish and Victoria (radiant and lively and engaging) deserves so much more than a man decades her senior with a murky past that is still whispered about.

 

His self-control has been pushed to breaking point already tonight.

Alone with Victoria, squeezed together on the sofa as they talk and with her grabbing his hands and touching his arm as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

 

So he tries to leave.

And of course she doesn’t let him.

He finds it so hard to argue with her, even though he can tell she’s not being exactly truthful about the likelihood of a taxi. He knows that she really is genuinely lonely with all her friends at home with their families and her desire to avoid her mother.

Another drink or two won’t hurt. He’s sure he can keep up his control for a little longer.

 

Victoria disappears into the kitchen for more eggnog, instructing him to put on some Christmas music.

He curses quietly when the first song that comes on is _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ , and when Victoria passes him a glass of eggnog he drains it a lot faster than he had planned and reaches for another.

Then he turns his attention to Victoria, who has snuggled into his side in a way he enjoys far too much, and finds himself a little lost in her eyes.

He cannot quite turn away. It feels like she has him under a spell (doesn’t it always?).

Have her eyes always been such a magnificent shade of blue?

_Kiss her_ , his mind whispers to him.

But no, he cannot do it. He’s an old man with nothing to offer a bright young woman like her.

Friendship is enough for him. It has to be.

 

* * *

 

_I thrill when you touch my hand_

 

* * *

 

Victoria is a little tipsy from the eggnog, quite pleased at finally getting William over to her new house, and very, very drunk on love.

She is also exceptionally frustrated.

William does not seem to be picking up any of her hints.

 

For a few moments, after she’d fetched more eggnog and they were snuggled together on the sofa, she had thought he was going to kiss her.

She thinks it would be marvellous to be kissed by him.

But then he had cleared his throat, moved to the other end of the sofa and started talking very quickly about one of the office Christmas parties from years ago.

It is admittedly a very funny story, but it is not one she cares to hear about now. She would much rather kiss him.

 

Perhaps she is wrong.

Maybe he does not like her the way she likes him.

Yet … she feels sure he must. For when their hands brush together and a thrill rushes through her body, she sees a darkening in his eyes that suggests he feels the same electricity.

Now all she has to do is get him to admit it.

 

They talk a while longer about past office Christmas parties, laughing and reminiscing together over this year’s party – highlights including an extremely drunk Ernest serenading Harriet, Edward Drummond proposing to Alfred, and Victoria forcing a Santa hat onto her uncle Leopold’s head despite the man’s vehement protests.

Then Victoria excuses herself, telling William she is going to the bathroom but actually running upstairs to frantically go through all the Christmas decorations she hasn’t put up (she has enough to fill five houses and never has room for them all) in search of the sprig of mistletoe she knows is there.

It’s a bit of a desperate manoeuvre but she is too scared to properly confess and this will at least make William think about the idea of the two of them together.

 

She sneaks back downstairs and, thankful that William is distracted by looking through one of her sketchbooks (luckily filled mostly with scenery pictures and sketches of Dash, rather than the one almost entirely dedicated to drawings of him), manages to hang the mistletoe in the doorway without him noticing.

_Ha_ , she thinks smugly as she sits down next to William with him none the wiser, _Emma and Nancy said I’d never make it in Slytherin, but look at me now_.

“Where is Dash?” asks William as he puts the sketchbook down, “I’m surprised he hasn’t come in yet.”

“He’s having a nap,” Victoria explains, “I took him on a long walk earlier and he chased a lot of pigeons so he’s exhausted.

“Well I suppose I’m grateful he won’t try chewing my boots again,” William laughs.

Victoria smiles. Dash adores William nearly as much as she does, but he does have a tendency to destroy footwear if he isn’t watched carefully.

 

She frowns, though, when William looks at his watch, “I think I’ll have to go now, Victoria, or I’ll be in no fit state to drive to Emily’s tomorrow.”

Victoria glances at her clock and notices it is now past 1am. As always time flies when she is with William.

“Very well,” she sighs, “but I am still sure it must be too cold outside to go.”

“I’ll survive Victoria,” William gives her a wry smile, “and I will see you in the New Year.”

“So long?” she asks sadly.

“I’ll be at Brocket Hall until the 1st January,” he reminds her.

She tries not to be childish and scowl, although she really, really wants to.

 

“I’ll walk you out,” she says instead, eyes glancing up at the mistletoe as she crosses her fingers and hopes for the best.

They stand up and he gives her a hug that does not last nearly long enough. Then, as they walk through the doorway to the hall she looks up and gives a slightly exaggerated gasp, “look William, mistletoe.”

His gaze darts upwards and she can see the shock and panic written on his face.

“I … Victoria, I …”

She could lean up and kiss him herself, but she hesitates. Because she doesn’t want to force anything on him, no matter how much she wants to kiss him. He has to make the decision for himself, she thinks.

So she tilts her face upwards and looks at him hopefully.

 

His expression cycles through so many emotions in a few seconds that she cannot comprehend them all.

She thinks nothing of that, however, when he mutters something too quietly for her to hear and then leans down to kiss her.

 

* * *

 

_There’s bound to be talk tomorrow_

_At least there will be plenty implied_

 

* * *

 

“Oh hell,” he mutters quietly, deciding to throw restraint away and be a little selfish.

Let himself be in love.

He draws her towards him until they are pressed deliciously close together, and then he leans down and presses his lips to hers.

 

He means for it to be a quick kiss, not chaste exactly but certainly not a big production.

Of course as it is Victoria (the woman he is hopelessly in love with) this plan is quickly abandoned in favour of a fervent and heated kiss that stirs feelings within him that he has not experienced in a long time.

She wraps her arms around his neck and when he grips her waist and lifts her up towards him he can feel her smile against his lips.

 

When they finally break apart he is breathless and flushed with delight.

She beams at him and she is so beautiful.

“You know there’s going to be talk,” he says, “and a lot of implications considering my past. Especially,” he continues, “when I have to explain to my sister why I’m going to be late to Brocket Hall.”

“I can take the gossip,” Victoria promises cheerfully and then, more quietly, “so you’ll stay the night?”

“Yes,” he answers her, “after all,” he winks, “it’s very cold outside.”

 

* * *

_Ah but it’s cold outside_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. Song lyrics come from Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Tom Jones & Cerys Matthews.


End file.
